


The Story

by sandwastesinthevoidofmychest



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Greg's POV, M/M, Married Life, Retirement, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, inspired by a song, memories and hopes for the future, reflecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 08:17:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16215113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandwastesinthevoidofmychest/pseuds/sandwastesinthevoidofmychest
Summary: There’s nothing like a sleeping Mycroft, Greg thinks as he lies on his side, watching the other man in the dawn light.





	The Story

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write something inspired by Brandi Carlile's 'The Story' for the longest time. You can listen to it [ here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=npIbI10tftU).
> 
> Also, if writing short cute Mystrade ideas is going to somehow get me through this master's degree, so be it.

There’s nothing like a sleeping Mycroft, Greg thinks as he lies on his side, watching the other man in the dawn light.

Hair greying, but hanging onto those last strands of ginger. 

His face is the picture of peace, forehead smooth apart from the few wrinkles, laughter lines prominent. There are freckles scattered across his cheeks, more noticeable now than years ago; they’ve been spending time outside, traveling. 

There’s a slight smile on Mycroft’s lips and Greg’s heart clenches as he thinks of all the tragedies, all the stresses that brought them to this point. Of course, there was so much happiness too, the absolute joy outweigh them all. 

So many stories.

 

Mycroft’s arm is draped over Greg’s waist, warm against his bare skin. 

Greg covets these moments. 

He usually wakes before Mycroft these days, Mycroft jokes that he’s making up for all the sleep he missed when he was running the government. 

Greg just watches Mycroft, his heart full of love and adoration. He feels insurmountable joy when he thinks about how they are still so infatuated with each other, even after all these years. 

When the time came for him to retire from the force, he was shocked when Mycroft told him that he would also retire. The idea of spending uninterrupted time with each other, without significant danger was too appealing. 

 

They both have scars from their last few years at work, some worse than others. Greg glances down at Mycroft’s chest and sees the thick scar and feels so grateful that Mycroft made it. 

The idea of a quiet, safe retirement was wishful thinking until it happened and became their reality. 

 

They had stayed in London for a few years, going abroad often. They’d visited so many countries, enjoyed each other. 

In the last year they’ve been moving. To a little country cottage in the Peak District. Their London home is for sale. They’ve only got a few things left to bring here. 

Their library that takes up the spare room is their pride and joy. They’ve spent countless nights curled up on the sofa, making their way through all the books they’ve always wanted to read that they’d never had the time for before. It was bliss. 

 

There’s been talk of adopting a dog. Mycroft has his heart set on a corgi, while Greg would adore a golden retriever. Like many of their discussions, they’ve compromised and decided to get both. 

They’ve put their names into many of the nearby animal shelters, asking to be notified when either breed comes in. Mycroft even went as far as putting them down at Battersea, citing the story of the corgi that was very nonplussed to meet the Queen, and how he would have loved to have had the chance to have adopted him. 

 

The subject of cats hadn’t been breached until a stray black cat kept appearing in their garden. Mycroft had murmured about black cats being unlucky. And the fact that the first glimpse they’d gotten of her had been a full moon, just a shadow in their garden. But Greg had found Mycroft setting out a bowl of food and water for her anyway. Mycroft claimed that he hadn’t gotten attached to her, which Greg highly doubted. His theory was proved when Mycroft had referred to the cat as Luna, and Greg couldn’t help but smile, and ask when she was moving in with them. 

They had invited her into their home the next day, and she was so intent on lying in front of their wood stove that she hadn’t even looked out a window yet. 

 

The small flood of sunlight that’s shining through their thin curtains catches on the edge of the glass photo frame on Mycroft’s nightstand. Greg’s eyes are drawn to the photo and can’t help but smile as he stares at them both on their wedding day. They aren’t even looking at the camera, they are smiling and staring at each other. It was captured seconds before their wedding kiss.

Even now, Greg feels pure joy at the memories of that day. How that night, naked and warm in Greg’s arms, Mycroft had confided that he never knew happiness like this could exist. 

When they first saw their wedding photos, Mycroft had picked this one out immediately. 

When Greg had asked why, Mycroft held it out for him. 

“You can make out my look of utter bliss.” Mycroft had murmured, “Never would I have believed that I’d find the love of my life, let alone marry the man. There we are.” 

Mycroft had even set the photo as the wallpaper on his phone. Greg’s heart swells as his eyes flicker back to the sleeping man across from him. 

 

Greg is stuck between wanting to trace Mycroft’s jawline and pulling him closer, but he doesn’t want to wake the other man. In theory he could be reading, preparing them both breakfast, anything really. But Greg will forever swear that there’s nothing better than being there when Mycroft wakes. That sleepy smile, hushed voices of admiration, and soft kisses. 

They’re both well passed their prime, but ever since retirement Greg has never felt so young, felt so much pure unadulterated joy in life. 

 

As though Mycroft is attuned to Greg’s thoughts, even in sleep, he shifts. 

Greg feels his heart skip a beat, he can’t help the smile that crosses his face as he stares at his husband who’s halfway between asleep and awake. 

The thought of getting to spend another day with this man is enough for Greg. It’s all he wants. 

For the rest of his life. He’s certain. 

 

As Mycroft stretches, struggling to open his eyes, Greg grins, waiting to see those glorious blue-grey eyes. 

“Mornin' darlin’” Greg murmurs, caressing Mycroft’s cheek. 

Finally Mycroft opens his eyes, cloudy with sleep; he needs his glasses all the time now. 

Mycroft’s slow smile, his warm hand trailing up Greg’s back, an attempt to pull him closer makes Greg’s heart sing. 

“Hello Gregory, my love.” Mycroft’s voice is hoarse from lack of use, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He leans in to Greg, and they kiss softly.

This is all Greg wants, all Mycroft wants. 

Each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, if you're curious about the Corgi mentioned, his name was Beama and you can see him be throughly unimpressed with the Queen on S4E8 of Paul O' Grady's For the Love of Dogs. As there is only a very crappy version of the episode on youtube,[ here](https://secure.i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/03235/queen1_3235816b.jpg) is a pic!  
> Now imagine Mycroft watching this unfold.


End file.
